


heavy and hard is the heart of the king; the heart of a man is a simple one...and all that it loves is a woman

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, Hades and Persephone-AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times the god of the underworld meets the goddess of springtime<br/>(and each time she is rather unimpressed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	heavy and hard is the heart of the king; the heart of a man is a simple one...and all that it loves is a woman

_**But even that hardest of hearts unhardened,** _

_**Suddenly when he saw her there,** _

_**Persephone, in her mother's garden,** _

_**Sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair** _

_**The smell of the flowers she held in her hand,** _

_**And the pollen that fell from her fingertips,** _

_**And suddenly Hades was only a man...** _

_\--Hadestown,_ Anais Mitchell

* * *

 

 

i. the first time he meets her, she is digging in the desert, strong hands pulling out sand and a length of cloth wrapped around her hair. she is tall and strong and wears swirling layers the color of the scenery. 

he almost trips over her. 

“hey!” she says sharply as he staggers. “ _watch_  it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t,” he begins to say and then looks at her more closely. she’s got a delicate, intense face, the scowl she’s directing at him impressive. “why are you planting things in the _desert?_ ” he asks. she looks at him like he’s the crazy one.

“deserts need plants just like everything else,” she says testily. “and _don’t_ tell me it’s a useless endeavor. see these?” she gestures to a plant that looks more like a declaration of a war than something that comes out of the ground. “this one has healing properties _and_ retains water. I’m going to plant them along the roads. then I’ll make sure there are some oasis out there too.”

he looks around at the vast desert landscape and then back at her. “how would you like to take a trip?” he asks her. 

she settles the plant into its new home and rises to her feet, not bothering to brush off her hands. “why would I go anywhere with _you?”_ she asks. then turns and goes, with a swirl of cloth and sand.

ii. he starts bringing her plants from home. ones that can survive extreme temperatures, from the desert heat to the chill at night.  she looks at _him_ dubiously, but she takes his plants. 

he considers that a start. 

iii. “what is it you _do_ exactly?” she asks him one afternoon, under the shade of the wall he found her planting a hedge of aloe under. 

“I’m a…pilot,” he says. “of sorts.”

“either you are one,” she says, gently rubbing her fingers across a broad leaf, “or you aren’t. which is it?” 

“I _am_ one then,” he concedes, for she has no patience with uncertainty, things either are or they are not. she is like the desert herself, she brooks no compromise, he thinks, and he wonders how she would look surrounded by green. “are you still interested in taking that trip?”

she frowns at him again, but with not quite the same ferocity. “I can’t leave here.” 

“why not?” he asks quite reasonably, she digs her fingers in the dirt stubbornly. 

“…they’re supposed to come back,” she says finally. “my…family. they promised.” but the words have the sound of river stones, worn so smooth they’re nearly all but nothing now.

he doesn’t press. merely nods. “if you ever change your mind,” he says, “let me know.” 

iv. she still hasn’t told him why her family left her. the desert is no place for a girl that burns and blazes with life, that has cool green springing up in her steps where she walks. 

he could show her other places, he thinks. places with cool green, both plants and water, rich black earth and shadows. he could put crowns of flowers on her head, braid her hair with strands of silver and roses. give her a garden as lush as paradise. 

v. “I’m not leaving,” she yells at him for the hundredth time in the course of this argument. “my family’s coming _back,_ I _know_ they are, you don’t have the _right–”_

“the _right_?” he shouts back at her. “ _the right?_ gods all dammit woman, why did they leave you here? and if you’re so sure they’re coming back, why haven’t they sent a message or a sign that they are?”

she is incandescent in her rage, the desert wind and sand rising up as in response. “they’re trying to protect me! it’s to–to keep me safe!” but there is no so much blind faith in the words as there is desperate clinging to a rapidly crumbling foundation. “they–they _promised!”_ the words shake.

defeated, he turns away, yanking at his hair in frustration. “oh by every hell there ever was, woman. you don’t deserve to wither here.”

the only reply is the silence of the desert. 

_and then one time…_

_“help,”_ she gets out, eyes huge with shock and terror. “someone’s come and they’ve _destroyed my plants.”_

he doesn’t ask questions, just grabs her hand, ignoring her indignant splutter of, “why are you holding my hand–” and they sprint into the desert. 

“aren’t you a pilot?” she gasps as they run. “don’t you have a ship?”

“I do,” he pants, “but it’s not– _that_ kind of ship.”   

“it’ll do,” she gets out as the sound of shouts get closer. 

he stops their mad careen and turns to face her. “do you trust me?” he asks her, plainly, directly. “enough to let me–take you away?” 

he will not, cannot, do so without her complete consent. 

she stares at him, eyes wide and green and gold all at once, all the earth’s treasures held in them. “will I be safe?” she asks, and she only sounds slightly breathless. 

“no,” he admits, though this is the worst possible time to do so. “but–I’ll be there. if that helps.”

“it might,” she says and this time, takes his hand herself. “where’s your ship?”

he swallows hard and looks at the earth at their feet. it rumbles like far away thunder. 

she looks down too and back up at him, eyes going wider still. “you’re–”

“god of the underworld,” he confesses finally, wincing. “traditionally, the name’s Hades, but–you can call me Poe.” 

the threatening shouts behind them are louder and closer. she swallows herself, her fingers tightening on his hand. “I’m Rey,” she says. “I’m–I’m not sure who I am. but I’d like to find out.”

“so would I,” he says. making sure he has her, he takes a deep breath and takes a shadows swirl around them both. they vanish into them, leaving nothing behind but a scattering of sand. 

//

he is right, he finds later. with silver threaded in her braids, she looks like moonlight reflecting off water. 


End file.
